


The silent listener (and the talkative faceless man).

by bbooyou



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed!Dan, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, He's mostly sensitive, Implied Codependency, M/M, Not That Sad, Phil's kinda anxious but not that much, Radio Host!Phil, Strangers to Lovers, Student!Dan, Suicide Attempt, This is kinda funny actually, diary au, i think, journal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbooyou/pseuds/bbooyou
Summary: Philip often found himself in unfortunate situations. You could say that wetting his socks at 6AM while walking half asleep to the bathroom or having to practically skip breakfast because he apparently ate all the remaining cereal the night before as a midnight snack were things that could happen to everyone, but Philip — or just Phil, as preferred — knew that if you were to balance things out he probably wouldn’t be the luckiest man on Earth (or in England, or in London).He wondered what could possibly go wrong as he sat on the dirty tube seat and put on his headphones, Uprising by MUSE starting to play out loud.That’s when he saw it.‘This journal belongs to Daniel J. Howell. If found, please return as soon as possible. Read under your own risk’.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was hard. I wrote 4k words in a night and I'm not ashamed, I liked how it turned out.  
> If you want a backstory, keep reading. If you don't care, feel free to slide down. It's ok!
> 
> I am a person that is diagnosed with moderate depression and high anxiety, and it was recently discovered that I have a co-dependent disorder as well. In the past few months I had the worst depressive episode of my life, and almost took my life twice in four months. I am now better and recovering, but the scars are with me and there are some things I will never forget. 
> 
> This came out as a cry for help, but also as an awareness that depression, anxiety and many other mental disorders are indeed illnesses. Sometimes a depressive person doesn't know why they're depressed, they just are and it honestly sucks. Being depressed, although similar, it's not being sad. 
> 
> If you know someone who suffers from depression, make sure they know that you support them and understand them, make sure to tell them how important they are to you. If you are, on the other hand, someone who suffers from depression, I just want to tell you that life is full of opportunities and you never know when the game's gonna change. Be patient, try to trust in yourself, try to make yourself better, you can do it, search for help, plead for help, but do not give up. We are strong. We are unbroken. 
> 
> OK, now that I'm done rambling, here's the story *drops mic and leaves*

Philip often found himself in unfortunate situations. You could say that wetting his socks at 6AM while walking half asleep to the bathroom or having to practically skip breakfast because he apparently ate all the remaining cereal the night before as a midnight snack were things that could happen to everyone, but Philip — or just Phil, as preferred — knew that if you were to balance things out he probably wouldn’t be the luckiest man on Earth (or in England, or in London).

 

Today was one of the days where he was feeling specially unlucky. He didn’t heard his alarm going off this morning, so he woke up 15 minutes late for work. His socks were indeed wet once he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, and he realized that his almond milk was spoiled even though he bought it just a few days ago.

 

He wondered what could possibly go wrong as he sat on the dirty tube seat and put on his headphones, Uprising by MUSE starting to play out loud.

 

That’s when he saw it.

 

It was just next to his foot on the tube’s floor, and Phil wondered how hadn’t he seen it before: a pitch black, dusty notebook. It had footprints on it’s cover, and it was bent in a weird angle because of the many people that probably stepped on it that day, or the day before that — who knows how many days it had been there before Phil found it.

 

He probably should have left it there, but as discussed earlier, that was just a bad day for him, so he just picked it up thinking that it couldn’t possibly contain anything wrong.

 

‘This journal belongs to Daniel J. Howell. If found, please return as soon as possible. Read under your own risk’; announced the first page.

 

“Brilliant”, Philip thought as he examined the black-inked, messy calligraphy. 

 

_ <<October 13th>>. _

 

_ << I figured out that maybe writing my thoughts could be helpful. It may not make me feel better, but if something happens then at least someone could know how, why. >> _

 

_ << Today was more of the same. I woke up late to class and some of the students sent me death glares as I interrupted their precious lecture about boring laws and procedures. Not that I care much. Just before lunch, Adrian sent me a picture of a cat in a box. He’s nice. _ >>

 

<< _ If I’m being totally honest I really don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t think I can feel anything by this point: everything’s a blur between what I expect and what I am capable of getting. I reckon that it was my mistake, that I left myself rest over someone instead of being strong myself. Now that she’s gone, I’m left with the disaster that was my life to begin with, and without any true reason to keep going. _ >>

 

Apparently, Phil had found some angsty teen’s diary. He knew that he wasn’t obligated to keep reading, he could just shove the notebook on the floor again and keep going with his life, start playing with his phone, maybe even text some friends — but Philip was never one to have good ideas, and the despair of some mysterious teen seemed much like an adventure.

 

<< _ October 19th. _ >>

 

<< _ I’m laying on my bed now, the day having passed by quickly and without anything too relatable. Troye asked me if I wanted some coffee, he was trying to be nice since I guess I don’t really look that well. I said no and came home and watched YouTube until 8PM, when I started writing this poor excuse of a diary.  _ >>

 

<< _ I thought about sending her a message to see if she cares, but at the end I just turned off my phone. No one would text me anyways. _ >>

 

<< _ I came back to old habits, having skipped two meals yesterday and one today. I’m just not hungry. In fact, I hardly feel anything anymore. It’s all just a mixture of sorrow, anger and mostly emptiness. _ >>

 

As Phil finally heard the last call for his stop and hurried to get off the subway, he couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly be going on with that Daniel boy. At the end, Phil forced himself to forget about the notebook inside his backpack, entering another boring day.

 

But he didn’t knew what was it, the diary just had intrigued him a lot, so much that instead of checking his Twitter while on lunch break he just looked at it for twenty minutes straight. Daniel didn’t wrote much on it, just a few times per month, but that was just enough to learn that he was an unhappy law student, that he lived alone, that he liked MUSE and spended the 90% of his days on Tumblr, had a friend called Troye and other called Connor, and even most important of it all: he was quite lonely. 

 

And maybe it was the fact that some of the stuff Daniel said was kind of entertaining — like when he wrote that he found some mice living under his bed and was too attached to it by the end of the day to kill it — or the fact that Phil was just bored of his everyday thrills and wanted something different,  _ exciting  _ in his life, but when the sunset came around and it was time to head back home, instead of going for some drinks with PJ and Chris, or even having a re-watching marathon of the Season 4 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Philip found himself in his bed with a cup of hot coffee, Daniel’s journal in hand. 

 

“ _ I’m such a stalker _ ”, he thought.

 

_ << December 31th >> _

 

_ << Yeah, I know what you’re thinking (besides the obvious fact that you’re an emotionless book): why are you writing on your journal on the New Year’s Eve instead of being with your family and friends? And truth to be told, Troye did invite me to hang out with his family and so did Connor, and mom said that she could pay for my ticket back home, but I know she was just trying to be nice. She had her new family, and I bet she thought everything would be even better without her unuseful, depressive child. What about dad, you ask? Well, he hasn't called at all, nor even in Christmas. >> _

 

_ << I would say that I don’t really care, that I’m fine, that I’m used to it, but the main idea of this journal was being honest, just to myself. Well, being honest, I’m not ok: I don’t know how much I can take it anymore. >> _

 

_ << It’s 12 o’clock. Happy New Years to me. >> _

 

Phil shivered after reading the last line. Just like being immersed in a book on which the main character was in trouble or in pain he couldn’t help but to feel worried about Daniel’s well-being. By this point it was quite obvious to him — and after being said by Daniel himself — that the boy was having a really hard time. 

 

New Years. It was almost six months into the past. Maybe things got better, he just had to keep reading and find out the main end, or at least that’s what Phil said to himself, drowsiness starting to take over him. ‘ _ Just more page _ ’, a classic.

 

_ << January 20th. >> _

 

_ << I wondered that if I treated this diary as a person, maybe I would remember to write on in more often instead of shoving everything down my throat — not quite literally. >> _

 

_ << So, for the sake of my sanity you’ll be Link from now on. I know, I’m a nerd, but hey, it’s my journal, I can do whatever I want with no shame. >> _

 

_ << I know I’ve been writing on here on and off for the past months, but maybe I should introduce myself. Hi, Link, my name is Dan and as you already know by now, I’m a huge piece of shit. >> _

 

Phil laughed before letting a long yawn escape his mouth. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It marked 1:21 AM.

 

That night, Phil fell asleep in the middle of Dan telling Link the story of how he lost his hamster when he was twelve.

 

And thus he established a little routine for himself, it was just him and that person he never saw but felt a strange closeness to. The book never left his side, always being placed inside his backpack when he was at work and laying on his bedside table when he was occupied trying not to burn his dinner. Dan became his deaf company, never listening but always speaking about how he was late to class and how that blog that he had been following for a long time finally noticed him back.

 

And there was also the fact that Dan had depression. If you asked Phil, it was the part of the book that he disliked the most.

 

_ << March 15th. >> _

 

_ << I was hanging out with Connor today at the café near the campus. We were talking about whether koalas or kangaroos were Australia’s most iconic animals when I suddenly felt the urge to turn back and I saw her. She was with her friends, a little daisy on her hair and that beautiful and brilliant smile. I felt my heart race as it did before, and I started to sweat like crazy. Connor looked too, and instantly grabbed my hand, maybe it was his way of saying ‘it’s okay’, but it wasn’t, it really wasn’t. >> _

 

_ << And then she looked at me, her smile instantly changing into an expression of pity. She looked worried, and I noticed that she was starting to get up, so my instant reaction was just turn back to look at Connor, giving him an apologetic glance and then getting up as soon as I could. I think I never ran as fast as I did today while getting back to my dorm. >> _

 

_ << The thing with falling in love, Link, is that everyone is free to leave or stay and it should never be forced. You believe that the person you love would stay forever, but that same thought it’s what backfires us all at the end. We get used to share our struggles, our happiness, us all with someone, and when they leave you’re there alone, empty. >> _

 

_ << It was my fault anyways, having being tricked by the hex of a fake forever. Deep down I knew that Dodie wouldn’t stay for that long. >> _

 

A nostalgic smile appeared on Phil’s lips, and he wished with all his heart that he would have embraced Dan while he was in that situation. Dan talked about her sometimes in his sleepless nights, about her love for the colour yellow, about her bright smile. He talked about Dodie like Phil would talk about music, about video games, about his job at the radio station and, to be quite fair, about Dan.

 

And the thing about this whole ‘relationship’ that they had is that no matter how much Phil wanted to say that he was with Dan, that he believed in him, that he was awesome and he loved spending time with him, he couldn’t. He wanted to hug Dan, whisper to him that everything was going to be ok, but he couldn’t.

 

Because Dan was a memory and Phil was his silent listener. The same Dan that spilled milk on his favourite t-shirt on february 29th, or the Dan that told Link on a silent evening that he actually hated studying law on january 31th, they would all be there forever, inked on those white pages as a reminder to the world that once there was a boy named Daniel Howell. 

 

But he wasn’t there, as much as Phil wanted to think that he was.

 

And then, a week and a half later for Phil and a year later for Dan, it all started to change.

 

It wasn’t good.

 

<< March 29th. >>

 

<< _ It’s getting worse. I feel as I’m slowly losing all control of myself.  I can’t eat, I can’t drink, and worse of all, I can’t free myself from this enemy that haunts me because he’s right here in my head, reminding me of the things I did wrong, of the things that could’ve been better, reminding me that I’m just a poor excuse of a human being, that no one really needs me, that I’m no one. I’m my worst enemy, Link, and no one can save me. >> _

 

_ << I feel it, it’s like a silent whisper in my ear… “Do it, do it”. Should I? I don’t even know. I can’t really think properly: it’s been another sleepless week. >> _

 

_ << I am so tired, Link, so tired, I just want to rest. >> _

 

And Phil knew what he was talking about, and he was afraid. One and a half weeks with the diary. And it was running out of pages. 

 

That night he had a dream about a faceless boy named Dan. He was crying as Phil hugged him and told him that everything was going to be ok, but the boy started to scream so loudly that it hurted Phil’s ears, so he screamed too, asking him to stop, and he did. After a few silent minutes, Phil realized that the faceless boy was dead.

 

He woke up with his bedsheets wet because of his sweat, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Phil Lester went to work early.

 

He choose to leave the journal there, sitting on his nightstand.

 

“Hey mate, you ok?” his friend PJ asked that afternoon as Phil was deciding on a secondary topic for his podcast of the day. The importance of gummy bears on every diet or giraffe extinction. He needed to have a few words with his scripters.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just…” he murmured, unsure of what to say. 

 

“You kinda look like someone was murdered”. 

 

And maybe it was all the stress from routine and monotony and not knowing what to do with his life, maybe he was too worried about Dan, his one sided friend, or maybe it was the fact that giraffes were in danger, but that day 26 years old Phil Lester shoved himself into his friend’s embrace and cried for 2 hours straight until his eyes ran out of tears.

 

The podcast ended being about the reasons why otters deserve to be in the number 1 spot of most cute animals of all time.

 

That night when he got home he didn’t picked up the journal as he was used to by now. Instead he binged over a random anime, wrote notes about possible new shows, called his mother, his brother, PJ, Chris and even that one roommate he had in university for two weeks.

 

For two more days Phil went to work early, and everyone was sure something was off.

 

“Phil, man, if something’s wrong you should just tell me, it’s fine, I can help you” said PJ with his blue eyes glowing in worry. 

 

“Everything’s fine! I’m just a little bit stressed out, I promise” he said hoping to sound convincing. 

 

“You called me yesterday to ask me if I could remember what I had for lunch last month’s first thursday.”

 

Phil sighted, and even though he was a creative man, he knew he was out of excuses.

 

And maybe, just maybe he wanted to let it all go from his chest.

 

“I, uhm, have this friend who I know for a really short period of time. He’s really nice and funny sometimes but he’s also really sad and… And he implied that he may kill himself and I don’t know what to do, Peej, I really don’t” he said quick as a lightning, and PJ looked at him without processing a single word for a total of 34 seconds (Phil was nervous for an answer) before speaking.

 

“Well, that’s fucked up”.

 

They stood there in silence for a while, PJ thinking about Phil and Phil thinking about Dan, about the diary that was on top of his nightstand, about how much of a coward he was for not wanting to read the rest of it and avoiding it for three days, but most of all about the sudden realisation that even though he was never there for Dan, that he was just a silent listener and Dan his faceless company, the boy needed him. He needed Link.

 

He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let him. No, no, no.

 

“I need to go!” he shouted while getting up of his chair, starting to run towards the exit.

 

“Phil, wait!” Peej told him, but the black haired boy was long gone.

 

And it was indeed silly of him to think that he could save someone whose face and voice he didn’t recognize, someone who didn’t know he even existed, but in his tired and desperate mind it made sense, he had to do it for Dan, he just had to, so he ran all the way to his apartment even though he didn’t exercised since high school and his neighbourhood was only three tube stops away. When he got home he was a mess full of sweat, his fringe was on the wrong side and the two first buttons of his shirt popped out but nothing really mattered because the notebook was right there where he left it three days ago, waiting for him to read it.

 

<< _ April 6th.  >> _

 

_ << I know, it’s been a week since we spoke and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t bring myself to write or to do anything in general. Everything’s just been a mess, Link, and I really don’t know how to explain it anymore. >> _

 

_ << In my sleepless nights I write letters in my mind, letters of goodbyes and apologies. I wonder if I should start to write them soon. >> _

 

_ << And no, I haven’t made a decision yet, but… I’m tired. I want to rest.>> _

  
  


_ << April 9th. >> _

 

_ << I don’t have antidepressants or sleep pills. I wonder if antibiotics can do the trick.>> _

  
  


_ << April 14th. >> _

 

_ << It’s been two weeks since I slept properly again. Troye won’t stop asking if I’m okay. He offered me to sleep in his place for a few days. He’s nice. I’ll really miss him. >> _

  
  


_ << April 20th. >> _

 

_ << I don’t want them to feel bad about me. That’s all I can think about. I don’t even have the will to keep fighting anymore. By this time, Link, I’m just waiting for a miracle. >> _

 

_ << I am so weak, so lame. I’m garbage. I must die. >> _

 

Phil struggled to keep reading. It was all getting so confusing for him, for Dan himself. The boy wasn’t really thinking straight anymore and Phil knew that. His heart was beating so fast, his hands were trembling with anxiety and the tears were fighting to leave his eyes.

 

But he had to keep going. He had to know what happened. 

 

There was only one more written page.

 

_ << May 1st. >> _

 

_ << I’ve made my decision. >> _

 

_ << I just wanted to say thank you, Link. For some time you were just what I needed to be ok, to feel safe even if it was just in your pages. You brought me peace and even though you’re just a black diary that I bought from a store months ago because I was bored, I am thankful to you. But I’ve had enough, Link, more than enough. I am done with my father and his idea of making me perfect, with my mother and her belief that I need to grow up. Fuck them for not giving me the only thing that I wanted, which was just a little bit of love. The only thing that I truly desired is what I will never have, and fuck this fucking world for that. >> _

 

_ << This is it, the final moment. The final letter, the final goodbye. I’m tired. I’m finally going to rest, Link. >> _

 

_ << Thank you — Dan. >> _

 

Phil didn’t even noticed he was crying until the sobs became too much for him to control.

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about him, about Dan and his perfect taste for music, about Dan and how much he loved Mario Kart and Pokémon and sometimes made the worst puns and innuendos possible. He thought about how he just wanted affection, about how he just wanted help, someone to understand him. Dan wanted someone to save him from himself, from that hell that was his illness.

 

And all Phil could do was read him until the last moment. Hear his pain, read his suffering but not act, just being a quiet observer of that midnight function. 

 

It hurted. It hurted like hell.

 

So Phil fell asleep that night with his face full of dry tears and his red nose making contrast with his almost translucent skin while he hugged forcefully his pillow hoping that was someone, anyone. Dan.

 

He didn’t went to work that day. They didn’t called him either, so he guessed that maybe PJ told them about what happened. PJ, instead, called a total of 6 times, Chris called 3 and even his brother Martyn sent him a message asking if everything was okay because Peej contacted him, but Phil didn’t felt like talking. He just wanted to read, but there was nothing more to read about. 

 

It was past nine P.M when an idea crossed his mind and he quickly closed the tab of puppy videos, opening facebook instead and typing in “Daniel Howell”.

 

He wasn’t hard to find. Phil knew he lived in Manchester, knew his interest and even his birthday (June 11th). For a brief moment, the boy forgot all of his worries and dedicated himself to admire Dan’s picture. He had straight brown hair styled in a fringe and eyes just like almonds, and a timid smile decorated his lips as he looked at the camera. He was pretty.

 

But he wasn’t there to stalk Dan’s pictures nor fantasize with the boy. He wanted to find him. He wanted to know if he was ok.

 

The lack of posts of grief on his profile gave him a little bit of hope. The lack of posts since April 17th, however, sent shivers down his spine.

 

He studied his friend list, searching for someone who Dan might had mentioned in his diary. He found Dodie, the girl that Dan had loved in the past, who had the biggest and brightest smile Phil ever saw. The words “in a relationship” were marked on her profile, and Phil left out a sight. 

 

And then he saw Troye, a boy with blue eyes and a soft smile, just as Dan had described him before, as Phil remembered. “He’s bloody attractive”, he mentioned one day. It was true. But that wasn’t the point.

 

“ _ Hey, I know this may sound weird and we don’t even know each other, but I swear to god I’m not some kind of pervert or creep or something. I just wanted to ask you — do you know where Dan Howell is? _ ” he sent, wondering that maybe he exaggerated things a little bit and showed to much of his preoccupation. Maybe Troye wouldn’t respond. Maybe he would block him. But he needed to try anyways.

 

“ _ Hi _ ”, he responded a brief minutes later. “ _ No worries, man. Well, last time I spoke to him he was heading to London for a few weeks, he said something about a job and stuff… Said he was going to be there until June 1st _ ”.

 

He found the diary two weeks ago. Dan’s last entry was on May 1st. Phil looked tentatively at his calendar. It was May 31th, 10:23 P.M. 

 

And while he was sure Troye was telling the truth (because Dan said he was a nice guy and Phil believed him), he was not so sure about Dan. He was not convinced at all. May 1st. June 1st. 

 

Something was off, he knew, but what he didn’t knew was what to do anymore.

 

He said thank you to Troye and closed his laptop, eyeing the ceiling as if it contained the answer to all his struggles and Dan’s. Dan, Dan, Dan. That was all that was in his mind for the past weeks, a man he didn’t knew, a memory written in a cheap and plain journal that nobody even cared to pick up from the dusty tube’s floor, nobody except him. He who cared for someone who he never spoke to. He who was trying to save someone he read in a book. 

 

He was definitely the unluckiest person of them all.

 

It was then when, in a last trial to find something, Phil picked up the diary and noticed words written on the very last page of the notebook.

 

The handwriting was messy and there were patches of dirt on the page, but Phil didn’t really had the time to think about that. It was Dan’s calligraphy, and the date was posterior to the last entry.

 

<< _ May 15th.  _ >>

 

<< _ This is my last cry for help. _ >>

 

<< _ My name is Daniel Howell. If you are reading this past June the first it means I am dead, but if you’re not, I want to ask you a favour. I know this is just a notebook you picked up from the metro, that you don’t know me and don’t care about me, but this is all I have. This diary means the world to me, but this is the only way that I can possibly allow myself to do it.  _ >>

 

<< _ As I said, if you’re reading this after the first day of June, I died, but if you aren’t, if for some reason you’re reading this and you still got time… Please, stranger, whoever you are, please save me from myself.  _ >>

 

<< _ At exactly 00:00 of June 1st I will jump out of the rooftop of Hotel Sunrise in Croydon. If you can help me, please call the police, please prevent me to do it because I can’t do it myself. I just can’t. _ >>

 

Feeling his hands turning ice cold and his heart galloping in his chest, Phil glanced at his clock.

 

22:45.

 

He almost forgot his wallet and his phone, and he was wearing his Totoro slippers and his Spider Man trousers but he didn’t cared, he never did. His eyes were swollen and red as if he fell asleep with his contact lenses on, and his whole body hurt like hell because of all the stress and anxiety, but all he could think of was getting on the first taxi possible and going to Hotel Sunrise in Croydon and finding Dan. He only cared about Dan at this point.

 

If the taxi driver noticed something wrong with him, he didn’t commented it. In fact, he didn’t said anything the whole 30 minute drive and Phil was thankful because he was sure he couldn’t form a proper sentence without his voice cracking. He was trembling, cold-sweat running through his body, and even if it was sort of ironic, he hoped with all his heart that Dan wouldn't be there, that he would’ve thought it better, that he would’ve changed his mind. For the first time since he found that bloody diary he hoped that he wouldn’t get to meet Dan Howell.

 

When the taxi man informed him that they were in front of the hotel Phil paid him with shaky fingers and muttered a “thank you” before getting out of the cab. That was it. It was the moment.

 

Phil entered the hotel looking scared and unwell, but he was decided. Only half of the luminous sign announcing that place’s name worked, and when he got to the lobby there was not a single person there. Phil entered the lifter praying to the gods for it to work because he could barely stand on his feet. He was a bundle of fear and mess. Then, when he was done pressing the highest number on the lifter’s list and he began to ascend, Phil took his phone.

 

23:17.

 

A few moments passed until he got to the sixth floor and made all his way to the final staircase that led to the rooftop, but Phil was finally there, alone in the darkness of the night with just the honks of the cars and the lights of London accompanying him.

 

Maybe Dan changed his mind, maybe as it was early he wasn’t there yet. Maybe he took all this too seriously and it was all just a well elaborated youtube prank.

 

Except it wasn’t, because just as Phil left a tired sigh, a sob came from the darkness, and Phil saw the large body sitting almost at the verge of the roof.

 

It was Dan.

 

He hadn’t seen Phil yet, and he was just eyeing at the city while letting quiet sobs. He was crying, Phil reasoned as he thought to himself “ _ what do I do now? _ ”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

All of his body froze in that instant, and his breathing stopped for a half a second.

 

“Look, I know you have the same right as me to be here but I’m kind of having a moment here and I would very much appreciate if you leave now” he said with a voice that sounded tired, empty. Phil felt his heart ache, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, to say something.

 

“Please, man, I beg you, just leave…” Dan pleaded before sobbing once again, and Phil finally placed his eyes on his face.

 

His hair was curly and messy instead of straight, and huge dark circles clinged underneath his almond-like eyes. The soft smile was nowhere to be seen, but that was still Dan, the Dan that liked the same things that he did, the Dan that had accompanied his last two weeks, the Dan that made him feel thrilled and less lonely. It was his Dan, just a little bit broken.

 

And he could heal him.

 

“Are you deaf? Don’t you hear me? Leave! Please, just leave!” Dan screamed, and for the first time in three days Phil felt like he wasn’t scared anymore, like he was doing the right thing, that he was going in the right direction.

 

Phil started to walk towards the boy with firm steps, meanwhile Dan stood up to confront him. His face was full of tears. He was as tall as Phil.

 

“Who even are you? Leave me alone!”

 

“I’m Link” Phil said, and then silence followed.

 

“What did you say?” the almond-eyed boy asked after a moment that felt like forever, his voice full of confusion, fear and sorrow.

 

“I said…” Phil continued his steps until he was just in front of Dan and his blue eyes were fixed on the boy’s. “I am Link”.

 

Dan eyed at him for a moment until he finally managed to put all pieces together. Then, he left out a quiet cry as he fell on his knees, and started to sob loudly as Phil crouched to embrace him.

 

“I am so sorry for being like this” cried Dan as Phil holded him and he holded nothing.

 

“It’s ok, I’m here for you, I’m with you, everything’s gonna be fine” muttered Phil.

 

“I just want the pain to stop, Link. I just want to be ok. I just want to rest, I’m so tired, so tired…” he said, his voice full of despair.

 

“Stay. Please stay, Dan. Stay and we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you, I promise, even though you don’t know me, I swear I’ll help you. It’ll be ok. Please, stay with me.”

 

Then it was all a blurr. The moments turned into minutes, and then the minutes into hours until Dan finally fell asleep in Phils arms in that cool and dark night. 

 

As Phil holded the sleeping boy in the cab on their way back to his flat, his eyes fixed on his calm expression, he couldn’t help but to think that he knew, for some reason, that everything was going to be ok.

 

When Daniel Howell woke up he was somewhere other than his hotel room. The bedroom smelled like cinnamon and coffee, and it felt comfortable and homey. Safe was the best word to describe it.

 

Then, when he saw the man sleeping uncomfortably on the couch next to the bookshelf, he remembered.

 

“I think…”, he whispered to himself as he watched the man with an unknown name sleep peacefully.

 

“ _ I am Link _ ”.

 

“ _ Please, stay with me. _ ”

 

“I think it’ll be alright.” 

 

Maybe it would not be now, not tomorrow, but someday, maybe soon, it would all be ok, and it would’ve all be worth it. 


	2. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the ending to this story. Only took me what, six months? Anyway. I just wanted to bring a bit of hope to Dan in this story, and I wanted to transmit what is like to overcome something as serious as depression. You may never heal completely, but you become stronger enough to know how to deal with it.
> 
> Anyways, hope you like it.

As he made himself comfortable on someone else’s couch, on someone else’s living room, he thought to himself that if he were to tell this story to someone other than  _ him _ , it would come as incredible, even fake.

 

If you ask him, it was actually quite funny.

 

He eyed at his laptop’s clock from the side of his eyes. It was almost 6 o’clock in the evening. He would soon come back, backpack in hand, smile on his rosy lips.

 

He felt anxious, like he was craving it too much. He was an angel, he had deduced long ago, a miracle sent right his way to save him.

 

He wasn’t sure that he deserved it, but well.

 

The man came back just as he thought, and a small part of his heart lit up when the glow of his picture perfect smile got to his eyes.

 

He talked about Peej back at the office, about this cute dog he saw when he exited the station, about this crazy man that went up to him and asked whether or not cow abductions were a loss to humanity. He, on the other hand, just grinned as he listened to the angel.

 

He asked if he prefered pizza or chinese. He, of course, chose pizza. He suggested something about pineapple, but the look the angel gave him was enough to shut him up.

 

“Portuguese, then”, he said, half-laughing, half-scared for his life.

 

Later that night, as he did the dishes of where once was an ethereal portuguese pizza, the other man said it. He reasoned that he was probably holding it back the whole day.

 

“Dan”, he said his name with a timid, soft and caring voice. “The therapist said that she could meet you tomorrow in the afternoon.”

 

He froze, just for a mere second.

 

“Okay”, he said as if the porcelain of the plates and the grease of the forks and knives needed his whole attention.

 

“I could ask John for a few hours off so I can go with you”, he added carefully, as if he was afraid that he could make him mad (which was, of course, not even remotely possible).

 

“That won’t be necessary, you have done enough for me already.”

 

He knew it was there, that shy, apologetic, nostalgic smile. He knew he felt like he wasn’t doing enough.

 

If only Phil knew…

  
  


“Tell me, Dan”, the psychologist said while comfortably sitting on a red leather armchair, a notebook in hand and a inviting smile on her lips. “What’s been on your mind lately?”

 

He didn’t even thought about it. He just responded truthfully.

 

“Phil.”

 

“Ok”, she remained in silence for a few moments, as if she was waiting for him to continue. Once she realized that for him it was plain and simple and that he didn’t thought he needed to add something else, she asked: “how do you feel about him?”

 

Truth to be told, he was clueless, it was complicated, like a blurr. 

 

Everything was.

 

“The best way I can describe it’s “not empty”, or warm.”

 

“Ok”, she whispered as her hand wrote on her notebook like it had a mind of its own. “That’s good, ain’t it?”

 

“It is, I guess.”

 

When the doctor suggested that maybe he needed to leave Phil’s apartment more often, said man kindly offered him a position as his own personal assistant back at the radio station. “It’ll be fun, and I’ll be by your side”, he had told him. He didn’t quite knew why, but a soft warmth surrounded his heart.

 

Slowly, carefully, everything was falling into place. 

 

It was this one night, maybe two weeks, maybe a month later, that he woke up on the sofabed that was almost his fortress sweaty, unsettled and almost out of breath. He realised that he was screaming, but it was like he had lost control of his body, like he was just watching from afar like a quiet witness. He couldn’t move his body, couldn’t concentrate in something that wasn’t the crescent fear that hugged his heart like a long lost friend. 

 

“Dan!”, he heard a voice from afar. He could sense the other boy grabbing his face, talking to him, whispering to him.

 

The fear was too much. He couldn’t concentrate. 

 

For a moment, he wondered what was going on that Phil was so agitated. 

 

“Please look at me, please”, the man said, and he wanted to comply, to fixate his eyes on the other boy’s blue orbits, but he couldn’t. He tried, but he couldn’t. “Breath, Dan, breath.”

 

It was then that he noticed that he was hyperventilating, maybe he had been like that since he woke up. He noticed that his whole body (that it really didn’t felt like his own) was shaking almost violently. He felt scared, even more frightened that before. 

 

“Please look at me, Dan.”

 

And so he did, not without fighting towards an invisible force that appeared to be controlling him, that told him that he was going to get hurt, that he was in danger. He looked at Phil’s eyes, concentrated in their deep colour blue with hints of green and hazel, and suddenly, with calm, the fear started to dissipate. 

 

“I’m ok”, he whispered when his heartbeat finally calmed and his breathing regularised. 

 

He noticed that Phil was close, closer than ever. His hands enclosed his cheeks, and his forehead was almost touching his own. His heart once again started an abnormally fast beating, and a soft crimson colour covered his freckled face.

 

“Yeah, sure. You just had a panic attack, Dan. That’s not okay at all”, he said with worry on his husky and tired voice. 

 

“It’s fine, really. I just… I had a nightmare.”

 

He remembered. He was there, at the rooftop of Hotel Sunrise in the night of May 31th, and the soft and warm breeze of the night embraced him, almost encouraging him to act. It was just like that night when he met Phil, when he met  _ Link _ , the angel. 

 

Instead that it wasn’t, because he was all alone.

 

He jumped.

 

“Are you sure?”, Phil asked with that caring voice of his, and Dan’s body almost moved on his own and wrapped his arms around the man, but he fighted against that urge.

 

And he knew he was selfish, because Phil had dark circles under his eyes and the soft honks of the distant cars indicated that it was really late at night; he had spent who knows how many days at Phil’s apartment without giving him nothing, and god, Phil even paid for his psychiatrist appointments, he gave him a job, he gave him food and shelter and he smiled at him and he made him feel warm and  _ accepted _ . He  _ saved  _ him. And yet Daniel Howell, self-proclaimed the worst human being in the entire world, found himself curling in his (Phil’s) mattress, whispering:

 

“Can you just… Stay with me?”

 

And he was ready for Phil to frown, to tell him that he was tired and that they had to go to work in the morning. He was ready to be rejected, he always was. By now, it was almost like a second nature.

 

He was, on the other hand, not ready for the smile that the boy gave him, nor the soft spark of joy in his eyes as he laid beside him.

 

“Of course.”

 

When he woke up five minutes before his alarm went off and found himself wrapped around a mess of blankets and tangled legs and  _ Phil _ , he felt his heart, the very same that was hurt and terrified and almost shattered, begin to heal. 

 

He smiled as he looked at him, and just for a second he remembered a petite brown haired girl back in Manchester. He remembered his heart clenching at her wide smile and smiling just because she did. He remembered, clearly as ever, what it felt to love someone.

 

But this just felt… Different. Smooth. Like if did didn’t really mattered if he accepted it or refused to let it happen, it would occur anyways because it was just meant to be.

 

It wasn't like he was in love with Phil or something, anyways. 

 

“Are you two an item?”, asked Becky, one of the main producers of ‘Real Talk with Phil Lester’, one afternoon.

 

He froze. Even if his lips moved, even if the “no” was there at the tip of his tongue, the words just seemed to refuse to leave his mouth.

 

He felt an arm hugging him by the shoulders. When he looked to see who was (because he was sure that wasn't Phil's coconut and cinnamon scent), he faced the cerulean eyes and bright smile of PJ.

 

“They're just buddies, Beck, just as we are, right, man?” PJ smiled at him. Dan supposed the man knew that he was uncomfortable by the blonde girl’s question. He supposed he knew of his condition, he knew that at this point he had no other friend that the good ol’ Phil.

 

And Dan blushed, because PJ had just hinted that he considered him a friend. Dan, who was shy and clumsy and a mess, being friends with him that was easy-going and gentle and  _ awesome _ . 

 

There it was again, that soft and warm sensation. By this point he didn't recognize it's name anymore, but it felt just right.

 

Dan noticed as he searched for the correct words so he didn't messed things up —as usual— that Phil was staring at him from afar, smiling at him like he was encouraging him, like telling him ' _ go on, make friends _ ’.

 

“Yeah”, he said, and he hoped that he sounded as smooth and fearless as he hoped. “We're friends.”

 

“Oh, ok.” 

  
  


“You want to split the rent?”, Phil asked him wide-eyed. They were in the living room and it was almost midnight and Dan’s mind didn’t work properly anymore because otherwise he would had remembered that  _ of course _ Phil didn’t wanted to share rent with him, of course he didn’t wanted to live with him permanently. Who would want to live with someone as shattered and weak as himself, anyways?

 

“I-I’m sorry, I just…”

 

“Stop that. You’re misunderstanding things and blaming yourself again.”

 

He was surprised at how well Phil knew him after just months of officially meeting him.

 

“I do want to be… Housemates? Yeah, I want to be housemates with you, silly. I just know that you’re just beginning to settle down and… We can wait a little longer to start splitting the rent. I mean, I can afford everything on my own”, he said with his eyes expressed worry and patience and fondness, and for the first time in forever Dan thought of himself as a lucky man because he had Phil by his side and he was everything that was ok in the world and  _ even more _ , all combined in just a single man that wore mismatching socks and tripped over everything that there was to trip.

 

He wouldn’t let it go, though. 

 

“I… Look, I’ve been living with you for four months now. I eat your food, use your water and you even pay for my goddamn therapy — and no, stop, let me finish”, he added quickly as he noticed Phil’s intentions of interrupting him. “I know how much you want to help me, but I… I sometimes feel like a burden, like I’m taking too much and giving nothing — shut  _ up _ , Phil. I just… I have a job now, thanks to you by the way, and I want to help. Just let me help, too.”

 

Phil remained silent and serious, just for a few moments, but long enough to leave Dan wondering if maybe he choose the wrong words to express his thoughts,  _ again _ .

 

Then he gave him a light grin, and all his doubts dissipated.

 

He smiled back.

  
  
  


“How are you feeling, Dan?” Layla asked him. She was sitting on her typical spot, in that almost torn apart but comfortable red armchair. She smiled at him. He, for the first time since he met her, was shyly smiling back.

 

“I… I don’t really know.” 

 

“How come?”

 

Instantly, Phil’s face appeared clear on his mind and that warm feeling hugged his heart. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but he knew it wasn’t bad. He felt it, too, when Becky praised his work, when PJ commented how he thought Dan was so funny, and even when the secretary whose name he didn’t even remembered wished him a good day. 

 

And, of course, he felt it while being with Phil. All the time, if he was frank.

 

“This feeling it’s… It’s warm and it just makes me want to smile. I feel it in my heart and at the tip of my fingers and in my stomach. I don’t really know how to call it. It’s just nice.”

 

Layla smiled at him quite playfully, like she was holding back giggles and Dan felt confused. He had something between his teeth? Was his hair styled in a weird way? Maybe there was a piece of toilet paper on his foot and — no, no toilet paper.

 

“What’s so funny?”, he finally brought himself to ask when he confirmed that his breath didn’t smelled and his fly wasn’t open. 

 

“That feeling, Dan, it’s just as simple as breathing. It’s called being happy.”

 

_ Oh _ .

  
  


It was december when Troye called again after a while. He was snuggling into his so called fortress, mattresses and pillows surrounding him from every angle possible as he watched the latest episode of this weird anime that involved space pirates and tentacles. He was alone, strangely, as Phil was out having dinner with his brother and his sister-in-law. 

 

His heart skipped a beat when he read the boy’s name on his phone, and his hands became cold and started to sweat. It wasn’t as if hadn’t missed him, but… 

 

But he had been trying to run away from everything that reminded him of his past life, and that included everything remotely close to Manchester. Even if it was his sort-of-ex best friend.

 

He was almost about to put his phone back in silence and return his attention to the girl with a dubious hair colour and abnormally large breasts, but he stopped. The almost annoying sound of ‘Marimbas’ filled his ears, and a vivid image of Troye laughing about something random he said came to his mind.

 

Troye inviting him to spend the holidays with him.

 

Troye asking him to hang out because he knew he was not feeling ok.

 

And nobody was really forcing him to do nothing, he just did it because Dan was his friend and he  _ cared _ , and Dan had pushed him away, he’d been away for seven months without saying anything, he wouldn’t even pick up a phone call for him.

 

For a moment he felt hopeless, just as if nothing life changing had happened and he was still locked inside his dark and cold dorm room with only a cactus and a boring black journal to keep him company.

 

The phone stopped ringing.

 

As he was once again about to swift his attention back to his abandoned laptop, he glanced at his phone one last time.

 

There it was, that odd, warm and fine feeling called happiness, brought back by a picture of them as his wallpaper. Phil was smiling happily and Dan posed with a gigantic cone of chocolate and pistachio flavoured ice cream.  They looked silly and dumb and  _ happy _ , and just the sight of Phil’s smile made him feel brave.

 

He decided not to question it and instead grabbed the phone. After the first two rings, Troye picked up.

 

“ _ Dan? _ ”, Troye asked with his voice showing unsureness. Dan felt fear, and he wanted to hang up so badly...

 

But he could do it. 

 

“Hey, Troye”, he said just as if months hadn’t really passed at all and he was just 7 minutes away from the other boy’s dorm. Troye stood silent for one, two, three seconds. He then laughed, much to Dan’s surprise, and it was soft and caring just as himself.

 

“ _ You disappeared, but I think that’s a topic for another occasion. I’m just glad that you’re ok, I was worried sick. We all were. _ ”

 

And Dan really couldn’t blame him because he ignored the calls from pretty much every possible family member and seven months was not a short period of time, especially because he had told Troye that he would go back to Manchester on June and it was  _ almost Christmas, for fuck’s sake _ , and he never said a single thing, nor gave any explanation. He felt ashamed and guilty. 

 

He was afraid back then.

 

He wasn’t afraid anymore.

 

“As soon as I got time, I’ll go back and explain it all to you.”

  
  


As he looked around, everything seemed to bring back memories. He remembered his heart, heavy and full of gloom, and remembered how the days seemed to pass slowly and painfully. He thought about how alone he felt. 

 

He looked to his side. There he was, his so-called angel, smiling as always. Glowing.

 

“Dan?”, Troye called and he came back from his reverie, focusing his attention on the handsome blue eyed boy. “Kinda lost you there, buddy.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, I was just…remembering, I guess.”

 

Phil sent him a glare, asking without speaking if he was ok. He just smiled while gently nodding, and then turned his attention back to his old friend. He was smiling, too, and he looked at them both with the tenderness of someone who was full of relief. Realization hit Dan as hard as a rock, and he was not upset but surprised. “ _ He noticed. _ ”

 

“You’re happy, Dan”, Troye said as if the man needed a confirmation. “You’re smiling. Never saw you smile like that before”, and he now was looking at Phil with a knowing, cheeky glare, and Dan couldn’t help but blush. Phil, on the other hand, was oblivious as ever.

 

“Yeah”, Dan responded with a timid voice as his sweaty fingers played with each other in a nervous habit. “Layla, she’s my therapist, helps a lot. And Phil, of course.”

 

“So I’ve noticed”, Troye said between giggles. If posible, Dan grew even more red.

 

“I try”, Phil added, and if he understood what Troye meant or not was unclear, but it still made Dan’s heart melt a bit. 

 

Suddenly, like a thunder, it began to change. Maybe it had been like that since long before, but it was just after they visited Dan’s mother and they were mistaken as a couple that he began to think about it more often than not. Now everytime they had chinese food and their hands brushed against each other by accident, or everytime they stood together until long past midnight watching silly animes, there was this voice on the back on his head that asked him what was it what they had together. Was it just a very close friendship, a strong bond formed by unfortunate events, or was there something more behind all those little touches, those shy smiles and those gestures of kindness? 

 

Now everytime Phil smiled at him or laughed he couldn’t help but feel what they called butterflies on the stomach, and he found himself hoping for even more than Phil had already gave him. He hoped for long kisses in the morning before going to work, for a non-existent distance between the two, and he even felt like his arms ached with the need of embracing the other man. 

 

Suddenly, but not really, all he could think about was Phil.

  
  


He found the diary one afternoon after work. The sounds of Phil singing ‘Toxic’ while showering could be heard through all their brand-new apartment, and Dan was just unpacking some of the boxes in between laughter when the sight of the familiar leather cover caught his eyes. He considered for a moment not opening the book and just throw it in the bin and forget that it even existed to begin with, but before he could stop himself he was already reading the first page.

 

There it was, the solid memory of a tragic past that could have ended in that night. There it was, the proof that there was once a boy who carried sorrow in his soul and fear in his eyes, a boy who lost all hope, someone who lived in never ending pain. He remembered, clear as water, what it felt to be hopeless.

 

But he lifted his head just enough so he could look at the mirror in the middle of their dining area, and what he saw was not the pale boy with bags under his eyes and scars on his arms. He didn’t see pain, didn’t see someone crying to be helped, but instead saw someone who maybe was a bit fragile still, but was no longer afraid. He saw hope, happiness in his own brown eyes, and he couldn't help but smiling at himself.

 

He thought back to the day when he met Phil, and he was  _ proud _ . He had come far.

 

“Dan? What are you doing?”, Phil asked while entering the room, his ebony hair still a bit wet from the shower.

 

He didn’t even blinked as he walked to the older man, his steps full of confidence and pride and  _ happiness _ . When he stood in front of the other boy, he finally,  _ finally  _ closed completely the distance between the two in a tender kiss.

 

Maybe he wasn’t completely healed, maybe he would always be somewhat broken, but he knew that if he fell Phil would help him raise again. He knew that now he was stronger, he trusted himself, he trusted, loved Phil, the man who did everything and beyond to help him tame his black dog. 

 

As he fell asleep that night with his arms full of the man he loved he thought that yes, everything was finally okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts in the comments! I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope part two comes out soon, but I'm not making any promises. This could work as a standalone, though. Anyways, feel free to leave feedback/criticism as I appreciate it a lot. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I'm on twitter as SUG0ILESTER and on Tumblr as lowerc4se. Feel free to say hi.


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